


Lost in the Dark

by Moiranna



Series: 50 themes - Vergil & Dante [8]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, pre-established incestious relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiranna/pseuds/Moiranna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though time passes by the shadows of the past will never be forgotten. Some wounds will never close. This is the story of memories that should stay hidden being reawakened. Vergil-centric. VxD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Theme 10 - Ear ~ Sound
> 
> I sat and listened to Linkin Park’s “Leave out all the rest” and was hit by the writing bug.

The bedroom was dark. Naturally, one might suggest, seeing as the dial of the watch on the nightstand showed that it was just a few minutes past three in the morning. The bed was large, heavy silk sheets draping over the present. Vergil lay still, so still that if one hadn't been paying attention to the rise and fall of his chest they might have suspected that he wasn't breathing. And yet for one with supernatural hearing it was apparent that the elder son of Sparda very much was alive, the almost frantic stringendo of his heart belying the apparent stillness. Those with heightened vision might even pick up the faint trembling underneath the sheets, just faint twitches in his arms the white-haired man just couldn't quite seize. Eventually the stillness was broken as his eyes opened, winter-blue eyes staring up at the ceiling for several long moments before snow-white lashes fluttered shut with a sigh before the cambion rose, padding barefoot towards the large window, staring out over the city skyline with unblinking eyes, absent-mindedly rubbing at his his clothed chest just over his heart.

The barest of reflections in the glass gave a sign of the other occupant of the room yet Vergil's stare didn't even flicker from whatever he clearly wasn't watching, his gaze instead drawn inward.

“I dreamed that I was missing.” ( _was I ever found?_ ) His voice was quiet, the displacement of air the only indication of that anyone had heard him. “You were so scared.” ( _Dante, Dante, don’t cry._ ) The note of almost wonder felt foreign even to himself. “I saw the blood, all the carnage. Yet you didn’t care about the amount of people lying dead on the ground, all you wanted to find was me.” ( _I’m not going anywhere._ )

 _Knowing full and well I was the one behind it all_. Words never spoken out loud.

“And though you searched the world you never found me.” ( _I never left.)_ Was there a note of bitterness in his voice? It was hard to tell for one who hadn’t been trained in reading the delicate distinctions in his voice.

An intake of breath. The beat of his heart loud as a drum. ( _Whose heart?)_ “Have you given up on me already, brother?”

There was no answer. Had there even been one in the stillness of the room? The clock showed seven minutes past three, each tick of the clock a lifetime passing by.

Then the shadows moved. Enveloped him, easing the chill having seeped into his very core. Long fingers stretching to wrap around his wrist, stilling the continuous scratching upon his heart that the elder son of Sparda could not persuade himself to cease. “I thought that by now you knew that not even death can separate us.”

Stillness unlike any previous reigned in the room, the only sound prevailing those of two heartbeats so similar in pace that it was easy to mistake it for one single. Unvoiced, but always present – the quiet promise; I'll always find you.

 


End file.
